Part 2
My mother blames it on the rats,
men with arms as long as tails
that know how to steal the teeth
from your mouth,
the pure from your youth,
the gold from your labia,
leave another heart
in your stomach.
Rats with the audacity not to die
when swallowing your poison tongue,
I watched my mother
take a life with a sheet,
covered the scurrying
and beat it
against the kitchen tiles
until all that was left was blood and teeth.
I have this in common
with my father,
we are still trying to find our cavities.
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I love it
I love it